The Wolf Among Us
by Aerotes
Summary: "He closes his eyes, begs for it to be a dream, because surely there was not a wolf where Daryl Dixon should be."
1. The Wolf Inside

**You should probably watch at least the first two or three seasons of this show before reading this, just saying.**

In hindsight, Rick should've expected it.

And at first, he did. He assumed that because Merle had been one of _them, _Daryl would be too, but after weeks of being in the same company, he saw no signs of the hunter being one of _them. _Despite his anti-social personality and seeming hatred for most other people, he was human.

It kept him up at nights sometimes, kept him worried. He had seen it in Merle, saw it with no doubt in his mind, and everyone in the camp verified it. Merle was one of _them. _No doubt. He knew that it didn't skip people in families. It wasn't like one child getting brown eyes and the others getting blue, it was if one sibling was one, the others would be too. There were a million possibilities that could've explained it. Maybe Daryl had been adopted, but that didn't fit. The brothers might not have been identical, but they were too similar, they had the same stubborn set of their jaws, the same eyes, the same arrogance. The next possibility that came to mind was that they were half-brothers, and he settled on that and ignored the uneasy feeling of doubt resting in the bottom of his stomach. But after a while, it becomes nothing more than a thought resting in the back of him mind.

It's when he's with Daryl when their horses startle, Daryl's horse is rearing up and throwing the hunter, and galloping off in terror. His own horse beneath him is startled, whinnying out and rearing slightly in distress, but settling after snorting and backing away. He takes a moment to quickly evaluate the situation, looking for a threat, for walkers. He's relieved when all he sees is a snake and he takes a moment to just _breathe, _because near-death experiences were coming far too often these days.

His next priority is making sure Daryl is alive, because he expected to hear angry curses at the horse, but there isn't any. He turns, and looks for the hunter and the sight makes him blink once slowly, twice, a third time. He shakes his head, and takes a long swig of water, and blamed what he was seeing on a heat induced hallucination, but the sight is still the same. He closes his eyes, begs for it to be a dream, because surely there was not a wolf where Daryl Dixon should be.

But when he opens his eyes, the scene isn't any different. The wolf is curled in on itself breathing sharply and growling, blood coating the light brown coat, and it doesn't take a moment for Rick to realise that there's an arrow embedded in the wolf's side.

He dismounts quickly, kneeling down next to the wolf with the intention to help, because even if it was a Hybrid, it was still injured. And he didn't have a doubt in his mind that it was Daryl, for he had checked over the ravine, and there was no sight of the man, and the wolf just seemed to scream 'Daryl Dixon'. And it was still the same person he trusted, even if he was now a hybrid.

_Hybrid. _He remembers the stories about them, the creatures being vicious and angry, attacking for no reason. They were horrible creatures, unnatural. But the wolf next to him isn't attacking, isn't ready to kill. In fact, it just looks determined, just looks like Daryl, and Rick forces himself to forget the tales, because this was his friend.

The wolf – Daryl – growls at him, catches Rick's hand in his jaws when they come to close to his wound. His teeth are a blunt pressure on Rick's limb, and the sheriff reaches tenses begins to reache for his pistol before he stops, and reminds himself again that this was Daryl. This was his friend, and that Daryl - despite his tendency to be a complete and utter dick - wouldn't ever hurt him.

It's a test, he realises. Daryl's not putting any pressure behind the bite, teeth barely even touching the flesh, and Rick knows that if Daryl wanted to, he could easily crush Rick's hand and have it for breakfast, but he doesn't. It's a test of Rick's trust.

He forces himself to relax and grabs his gun. He ignores to vicious snarls and the sudden pressure on his hand, because he pushes the gun away, out of reach and he knows it's his stupidest fucking idea to date because this is a forest, and walkers weren't the only threat, but he knows that gaining Daryl's trust is the most important thing right now. Instead, he uses his free hand to slowly reach for the wolf. Daryl growls around Rick's hand, but doesn't move, his grip on the hand becoming looser, but Rick waits, twisting in hand in Daryl's fur. It's long and shaggy and coarse, but it's not unpleasant, and Daryl lets him, releases his grip on Rick's hand, and huffs, and Rick knows that if Daryl could speak right now, he'd be telling Rick that he 'ain't no fucking dog.'

Rick grins briefly, both at the thought and the success of passing the test. He places his trust in Daryl to not eat him, despite the fact that Hybrids were tricky creatures. They were quick to anger, and lashed out. They had the strength to take down a fully grown man with ease and crush his skull, and make a human into lunch.

But it's still Daryl.

So he gently pushes at the wolf, tries to get it to uncurl around the wound, and when it does, Rick sucks in a sharp breath. It had to hurt, and he wasn't sure if the arrow had struck anything vital. He now knew the reason for the sudden transformation. Wolves were often forced to change forms when they were injured. It was just easier for their animal side to deal with the wound, and it helped them heal quicker. But, with the faster healing or without, Daryl was injured and needed Hershel.

"Daryl, I have to get you back to the farm." Rick says, tries to sound soothing. "But I don't think I'm strong enough to carry you." The wolf makes a sound that almost sounds like a scoff, and Rick can't help but smirk, because Daryl was a Dixon, and Dixon's weren't pussies, and they never got carried, anywhere, no matter what the situation.

So, he watched the wolf slowly and painstakingly pull himself onto his paws, and Rick hesitates, tries to decide whether or not to pull out the arrow. He knew that it could cause significantly more pain for Daryl while he walked f it was still in his body, but there was the possibility of blood loss if he removed the arrow, and he didn't need the wolf collapsing on him. He wasn't lying when he wasn't sure he was strong enough.

Daryl was small for a hybrid, but that didn't mean that he wasn't the size of a puppy. He was easily the size of a German Shepard, if not a little heavier and a little bigger, and Rick wasn't keen on lugging something that big back to camp.

Daryl looks at him, waiting for him impatiently, and it strikes Rick that this wolf is exactly like human Daryl, with slightly less words and more hair, but still Daryl in almost every sense. The wolf stares at him, and then looks towards the way they were heading, stepping forward in that direction, and it takes Rick a moment to register, wondering if Daryl had lost his impeccable sense of direction as a wolf, but then it clicked, because it's obvious that he intends to go after Sophia.

That wasn't happening on Rick's watch. He could already see that the wolf walking slowly, limping and he was in no shape to look for the little girl, no matter how much both of them wanted to. He was going to put himself in risk, and there was the chance that he wouldn't come back to camp, and that didn't sit well with the sheriff, because not only was Daryl valuable, he had become something of a friend.

"Daryl." He says, his voice is stern and warning. Daryl pauses, stares at him in a challengingly manner, head cocking to the side, as if he was asking _'and what are you going to do?'. _

Rick forces himself to stand up taller, puffs his chest out and standing proudly. His days in the police force taught him how to handle these situations, and for a moment he finds himself wishing that they had given him a crash course in surviving in a zombie apocalypse, but he shakes that thought away, because he knows even if he had a centuries worth of training, he'd still be as unprepared as he was that day he woke up in the hospital because there was absolutely nothing to prepare anyone for this kind of situation.

"Daryl. You're coming back to camp with me where Hershel can look at that wound." He asserts as much dominance in his voice as he possibly can, tries to sound like the leader he is, the alpha he would be if he was a hybrid, and it works, but Rick knows he's done wrong immediately.

There's fury in Daryl's eyes, tension in his shoulders, and he looks ready to fight, but it's obvious that he's used to having an alpha commanding him, because he backs down, the fire leaving his eyes. He bows his head in submission, turns and refuses to look at Rick as he starts to walk back to camp, and Rick doesn't understand why that hurts him so much.

So he sighs, and grabs the reins of the horse and follows after Daryl while leading the horse. He stays far enough away, because Daryl's angry now, and despite his trust, he doesn't want to be near an angry hybrid, because he was raised somewhere where humans never fully accepted hybrids, considered hem unnatural. They said that they were vicious without reason, ruthless murders, but he had never seen those qualities in Daryl, not towards people. Sure, he could be violent towards walkers, but he had never attacked anyone in the camp.

He felt conflicted. He trusted Daryl the Human with his life, with the life of his family, but he didn't know if he could trust Daryl the Wolf. He's not quite sure about how this is going to change the dynamics of the group, but he knows it'll be drastic, because he knows that there will people who will turn their noses up at Daryl, fight to get him away from them. Others will accept him, he knows that, but he still worries.

He's brought of his thoughts when he sees Daryl's steps falter, and he realises that they've covered several miles now, and they were close to camp. But the wolf looked exhausted now, and he wasn't sure that Daryl would be able to make the rest of the trip back home, but he knows for a fact that his own arms would protest greatly at the weight of the wolf, and the horse constantly shied away from Daryl, leaving them with very few options, and bringing Rick to a certain conclusion.

They were fucked if they didn't keep going on, because judging from the height of the sun, it was late afternoon, and he didn't want to be out here in the dark, knew there was very little chance for them at night, and he has to choke back the guilt he feels because Sophia has been out here for the night, and will be again tonight, and it makes him feel sick.

He presses his hand into Daryl's back and forcing him down gently. The wolf looks pissed off, but resigns, rolling onto his uninjured side. He lets the exhausted wolf rest for a while, watching the sun slowly descend, and he's worried.

As if the wolf sensed his worry, or perhaps shared it, he opened his eyes slowly and pushed himself to his paws and slowly walks on, his steps wavering. Rick runs his hand over the horse's head, whispers to it before following after the wolf and walking next to him, twisting his free hand in the fur again, trying to give as much as support as he can without making it obvious.

Daryl does notice, tensing and shaking his fur a little bit, but allows for the support. He's unsteady but he's walking, and they're getting closer now, the farm in sight, and though Daryl is shaking with the strain, he gets to the border of the camp. There, he collapses, yelps when the arrow is jolted, and forces himself back up, and Rick can't help but feel so fucking proud of his strength, because he knows that if he had been in that situation, he'd be dragging himself by now, ready for death.

Shane and Glenn run to them, their guns in their hands, ready to neutralise the threat, and Rick sees the exact moment they realise that he's got a hybrid standing next to him. Shane's gun raises, pointed at the wolf.

"You better have a good fucking reason for bringing a mutt like that here." He growls, and Daryl growls back. Shane's finger twitches on the on the trigger, and he knows he has to explain quickly before they lose another member of their group. He steps in front of Daryl, protects him.

"Shane," He starts, stops and glances back at the wolf. Daryl looks grim, and he knows just as well as Rick that there's a high chance of him being slain on the spot. There was no soft spot in these people's hearts for hybrids.

He sighs, steeling himself to break the news. They'd have to go through him first before getting to Daryl, because he was truly a valued member of the group, despite his species, going out almost every day looking for Sophia, bringing fresh meat for the group.

"It's Daryl. He's a hybrid." He says bluntly.

The shock is evident in everyone's faces, Shane's gun lowering the slightest bit. He shoves Rick out of the way, scrutinising the wolf. There's a look of disgust on his face, and he looks ready to aim at the wolf and kill it. This time, it's Glenn who stops him.

"Shane, if Rick is right in saying that this is Daryl, then he's still a member of the group!" He argues. "He hasn't hurt any of us."

"But he could!"

"But he hasn't." Rick says, his voice stern. "He's valuable, and now he's injured, and we're going to get him to Hershel before he dies anyway.

Shane looks ready to argue again, but before he can start, there's the sound of a gunshot, and there's a yelp.

And Daryl's on the ground, motionless.

**I know what you're thinking. **

**"wow this is a terrible story with terrible writing."**

**Yep.**

**But I am in love with the idea of werewolf!Daryl, and I need something to do before I start NaNoWriMo.**

**So enjoy, if you haven't died from shock because this is the first time I've posted a new multi-chapters story since July last year.**

**Hoping on updating soon, because I doubt that I'll post at all during November.**

**-Aerotes**

**x**

**(Also, you could squint and say that this is edited, but you'd be wrong.) **


	2. Understanding

Hershel is in his element. Before all this, he had obviously spent time in the company of hybrids, because he doesn't look even remotely shocked at them dragging a wolf and calling out for him. He accepts the fact that it's Daryl easy enough, and it's a relief, because at least one person accepts Daryl in this form.

So he pulls out the arrow and stitches Daryl up with practised ease, cleans the wound and watches the unconscious wolf.

"The bullet just grazed him." The vet informed them, "He'll wake up soon."

"You've been around Hybrid before, then?" Glenn asks with a glance towards Daryl, hand ghosting over the wolf's coat, but never making contact. Rick watches the action with a rueful smile, glad that Glenn seems accepting even though Rick isn't sure if it's a good idea to accept him with open arms.

"Yes. My step-son was one."

Glenn nods and looks sympathetic, his hand running through Daryl's fur. The Asian looks almost surprised at his own sudden confidence to touch the wolf, but then looks pleased with himself when Daryl doesn't wake to chew his arm off.

T-Dog sighs. "So what're we gonna do with him? Shane seems pretty intent on putting him down." Shane snorts, looking at the wolf with immense distrust in his eyes and disgust on his face.

"That's not going to happen." Rick says. "It's still Daryl, even if it is a wolf. We've lost too many already, and Daryl isn't going to turn on us." _I hope. _Rick adds the last part silently, because he's honestly not sure on whether to trust Daryl or not.

"So do we just keep him around like some lapdog? Hope he rolls over and lets us give him belly rubs? Sit when he's told to? That ain't going to happen, Rick, you know that. You wanna keep him around Carl? Around Lori? He could hurt them!" Shane argued, voice rising in frustration. "He ain't safe."

Hershel cleared his throat, lips pressed in a fine line. "Did you not trust Daryl before you knew of his Hybrid status?" He asks, ever being the voice of reason.

All four of them nod - although Shane is a little reluctant - because Daryl had proved himself time and time again to them, an asset.

"So what's changed?"

"Are you blind?" Shane asks, sounding incredulous, gesturing at the wolf. "He's one of _them."  
_

"And?" Glenn interrupts. "It doesn't change a thing. It's still Daryl."

'It still Daryl.' It felt like Rick had heard that a thousand times in this one day, and he glances at the wolf and he has to wonder, is it really still Daryl?

"They're dangerous." Shane says, dragging out the words as if he's talking to a five year old who just refused to understand. "You can't tell me that you ain't seen the news, that you ain't seen what they can do."

"That doesn't mean they're all like that." T-Dog says. "The news shows the worst side of everyone, no matter who they are."

Shane sighs loudly, and he's vibrating with frustration and distrust. He turns to Rick, "And you think you trust him?"

_Yes. _The words catch in his throat, rubbing his throat raw. He tries to choke them out and he can't. He wants to, but he remembers, and he remembers and he remembers.

He knows why Shane doesn't like this, because he knows that Shane remembers too, and he can't blame the man for that.

"I think I could." He says eventually and he hates himself for it, because he wants to trust Daryl, because Daryl trusted him, but everytime he even tries to think about trusting the hybrid, the memories wrap around his mind and tighten like a vice.

"You think? That's not good enough. It's either you do or you don't." Shane tells him, expression hard and thunderous, and for a moment, Rick forgets that he's supposed to be the leader.

"I trust Daryl. I don't know if I can trust _this _Daryl." He admits, and Hershel's angry but silent, slips out of the room without a word.

"But it's still Daryl." Glenn says quietly. "You've trusted Daryl to watch your back time and time again. There's no difference."

But there is. They all know it because it's staring them in the face. The difference is that he's not fucking human, he's never been human and he lied. He kept his status a secret and it doesn't bode well with Rick, makes that pit of uneasiness bury deeper in his stomach.

"He didn't tell us." Rick argues quietly. "He should've told us."

"He shouldn't have to." T-Dog reasons. "We should've known. Merle was a hybrid, and we should've known from the beginning that Daryl was too."

And he's right and Rick knows Shane hates it, because he hates it too because he hates himself for not checking, for not asking Daryl. It would've been so simple, just to _ask. _And in a way, it was obvious.

Daryl was different to the others in the group, and they had all just assumed that he'd been raised differently, with different customs and mannerisms because Will Dixon was a shit father and they all knew that as well as they knew that Daryl was a hunter, but it should've stood out to them, should've been clear.

There were times where Daryl would leave the camp, under the pretence of finding fresh meat, but rather than a few hours, he could be out there for days, and he'd always leave the camp tense and frustrated, but he always came back calmer, and the nights when the moon was full was when Daryl seemed to be happiest, and the days of the new moon seemed to put him in a bad mood.

And if they had just looked, they would've realised.

"I think we could learn to grow to accept this." Glenn says. "Daryl is useful as a human, but I bet he's even better as a wolf."

And they all have to agree.

Daryl awakes with a jolt and a snarl, pulling himself away from touching hands despite the pain that creeps up his side and suddenly flares, because what mattered was that somebody was touching him, and he didn't like that.

His eyes snap open, and he sees Carol sitting there with a vaguely shocked expression, hands held up and away from Daryl's fur, and she starts talking soothingly. "Daryl," She says, and her voice is a melody, it's soft and it's nice against his ears, never grating like the other's seemed to do occasionally. "It's okay. Relax and I'll go get Hershel."

Daryl can't help but growl, because he knows he's injured, and if she gets Hershel, Hershel will want to check his wound, will want to touch him and Daryl doesn't want that, isn't sure that he can handle himself if the old man's hands get too friendly, but Carol's up and out of her chair, walking out of the room and paying no heed to him, and it frustrates him.

He twists, nosing at the bandages on his side and growls again, and he wants them off, he wants them off now, but the position he was in didn't quite allow for him to reach it with his paws or teeth, and he knows – he fucking knows – that if he moves, he'll run the risk of passing out from the pain, because the pain hasn't quite dulled down yet, not in the slightest bit. In fact, it was pulsing, sending shocks up his side and he feels _wrong._

He feels vulnerable.

And then Hershel is in the room and Carol is standing in the doorway, and he doesn't like that either, doesn't like that she's unknowingly blocking his only chance of escape if he can figure out how to move without feeling like there's a fire burning his side.

"Daryl, I need you to calm down." Hershel says and his voice is soothing too, but it's not like Carol's, it's rough and it doesn't grate on his ears but it chafes and it's enough to annoy him, but he forces himself to stop growling. "Good." Hershel says. "Now, I need to know that you're not going to bite me if I check these bandages."

Daryl stares at him. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't move his head in affirmative or not, so Hershel figures that he might as well try, knows that Daryl won't do any undue harm if it comes down to it.

So slowly, he peels back the bandage and looks at the wound, and with a hint of a smile, he looks up at the wolf, makes eye contact. "Your healing has already kicked in. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

And it's reasons like this that Daryl loves being a Hybrid even if he hates it.

Hershel is nothing if not efficient. He easy cleans the wound and takes care of it, puts new bandages on in record time, and only one does it hurt enough for Daryl to lash out, his mouth grabbing at Hershel's finger, teeth leaving indents, but that incident is forgotten as suddenly as it happens, because Hershel _understands._

Daryl might not like Hershel, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't respect him, because the man just understands, because nothing pisses Daryl off more than people pretending to understand. He didn't ask questions, didn't yell at Daryl for not telling him, for not warning him like his pack would.

And then Daryl remembers.

His pack.

They were going to be so mad at him, he knew that. That was, if he still had a pack. It was possible that they had kicked him out because he had breached an unspoken rule of security, but Carol shifts her weight and Daryl is reminded that she's still here. She's not yelling and she's not looking at Daryl like some mangy mutt.

She looks at Daryl like he's Daryl.

He appreciates that.

Hershel leaves soon enough, telling him to stay put for at least another day so his body can deal with the wound, but the vet doesn't have to tell him that, because the accelerated healing didn't take care of the pain, it made it more prominent, and Daryl's not even sure that he wants to move right now.

He wants to talk to Carol, make her understand but he's tired. He's so tired but he's alive, and if Carol was here, the rest of his pack had to be around somewhere nearby.

So he decides to let it go and just sleep.

**This chapter is a lot shorter than I hoped, and there was absolutely no action and I apologise immensely for that, but the next chapter will definitely have some action going on.**

**_Guest: Thank you, I'm glad. And no, there are no plans to turn Daryl into an omega. He's an alpha through and through in this story. _**

_**TheViscountess: Thanks Jake. Now stop it.**_

**-Aerotes.**

**x**

(Again, you could say that this is edited, but you'd be really wrong.)


	3. The Pack

**I'm absolute trash; I swear I didn't mean to forget about this story.**

Healing was a slow process.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating a little bit.

Actually he was exaggerating a lot.

His wounds were healing rather quickly and the persistent ache had dulled enough for him to be unhindered, though he still couldn't shift. Despite all that though, Hershel was reluctant to let him leave the house; the old man had been telling him that he didn't want the hybrid to catch infection by wandering around the farm, even though the risk of infection had been long gone, and Carol wasn't much better.

It was obvious they were hiding something from him and it frustrated him to absolutely no end. He certainly wasn't a pup and he didn't need protection from whatever was happening. He was a grown man for fucks sake; he could handle whatever they were hiding from him.

With that thought in mind, he tried to escape. It wasn't easy. He was too big to worm his way out through one of the windows, and someone had taken it upon themselves to close the door when there was no one in the room to 'supervise him'. With a lack of thumbs he had absolutely no chance of getting the door open.

So despite Hershel's protests, he puts all of his training as a younger brother to training and does his best to annoy his caretakers until they get frustrated enough with him to just let him leave the bedroom. He paces around the room – taking careful care to not walk on the rug so his nails would click on the hardwood floor – but even after doing that all hours of the night, the only response he had gotten for it was an exasperated looking Maggie who ushered him back into bed and stayed with him, patting his fur and coaxing him back to sleep.

Fucking rude.

Deciding that the first attempt wasn't enough, he redoubled his efforts, doing laps around the room, jumping on the bed and jumping off the bed constantly and whining as loud as he could. That had got Hershel running into the room – who knew that an old man like him could move so fast – and he had taken the opportunity while he had it, brushing past the farmer and running towards the door.

Unfortunately, the old man had realised his plan and closed the door, catching Daryl as he was halfway through it.

Honestly, the door hitting him had more shocked him rather than hurt him, but either way he let out a yelp, which had Hershel glancing at him worriedly and momentarily forgetting about his great escape.

He took the moment while it was there, and ran. He felt the elderly farmer try to grab him by the scruff of the neck but he was too slow. He let out a victorious bark and found himself faced with yet another problem.

The front door.

He willed his injuries to heal up completely before Hershel could get him so he could shift to a form that had thumbs, but the world was cruel and refused to grant his wish. With a huff of resignation, he turned to watch the old farmer enter the room.

"Thought you'd be able to pull one over me, did you?" Hershel asked, looking rather amused. He waits as though he's expecting an answer and Daryl snorts at him. The farmer sighs. "Let me check your injuries and make sure you didn't pull any stitches and then I'll consider letting you out."

Daryl bares his teeth but after a moment he complies because really, he has no other way of getting out unless he stays by the door all day in the hope that he's quicker than the person who's trying to get in or out and he really doesn't like the idea of that because Hershel probably would tell people to climb through a window or to not enter the house at all.

Hershel's hands are gentle as he examines the wound, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt when he touches around the area where the arrow pierced. A yelp breaks free without his permission and instinctively, he twists and catches Hershel's wrist in his jaws and growling warningly. Despite that, the old man doesn't look overly terrified, more concerned in that vet kind of way of his. He hums and sighs.

"Take it easy." He opens the door and Daryl is off, feet meeting the ground of the farm immediately and it feels good, it feels amazing compared to the feeling of the floorboards and he does a lap, just to burn off the energy before going and finding his pack.

They're really not all that hard to find though. The sound of arguing meets his ears soon enough and he follows that, footsteps quiet. He can already tell it's Rick and Shane going at it – strange how the two best friends seemed to be falling apart, though Daryl couldn't really say he was surprised. He could literally smell the betrayal on Shane, – but he can hear the occasional chiming in of other voices. The words aren't really words until he gets closer though.

"Listen Rick, I ain't saying we have to put him down or anythin' but he's a risk."

So they're talking about him then. Without him meaning to, his ears press back to lay flat against his head and he growls the slightest bit.

"Daryl has had plenty of time to make a move if he wanted to kill us though." Glenn argues. "He's not like his brother, and even Merle didn't attack us."

"He's a hybrid!" Shane snaps and it's harsh like a whip and he'd like to say that no, he didn't flinch at all, but he did. It reminds him far too much of the words that had been uttered to him over and over again, from schoolmates to hunters who hunted his kind for sport. He feels slightly nauseous and a little part of him wished that Hershel had just locked him in that god damned room. Despite that, he slinks closer.

"He hasn't harmed anyone." Rick says quietly.

"But who's to say he won't, Rick?" Lori asks harshly. "What if he gets angry at us all and attacks us? What if he attacks Carl?"

"Mom!" Carl sounds indignant. "It's Daryl!" Huh. At least the kid was on his side.

"Exactly!"

"Let's be reasonable about this." Of course Dale is trying to be placating, though it doesn't seem to work at all. The others just brush him off.

"Daryl has been searching day and night for Carol's little girl." Andrea says quietly, and god does Daryl thinks he might die of shock. Blondie is _actually _on his side? Amazing. "If he really had plans to kill us all, I doubt he'd be spending almost all his time looking for her."

"Nothing good can come out of having a hybrid around." Shane says firmly, and fucking hell this guy Is getting on his nerves and if Daryl had been Merle, he might have taken a bite of him by now. But he isn't Merle, so he just growls to announce his presence.

They all turn on him, all looking ready to eliminate any threat and they hardly look relieved when they see it's just him.

"See? He just growled at us all!" Lori snaps. "Who's to say he won't be more violent next time?"

Maybe it's stupid of him to even think about it, but he slowly pads through the group and weaves around Lori and Shane who are standing protectively by Carl. He snarls the slightest bit and turns to stare at Lori when her hands dig into the fur around the scruff of his neck, but he doesn't take action. He just stares her down for as long as he can and waits for her to turn away from his gaze before slowly walking to Carl.

He bows his head and feels a lot like a dog, which makes him feel fucking stupid but this was the best possible way to show them that he wasn't looking to them for a three course meal, he was looking to them as a pack. He stops in front of the kid and huffs the slightest bit when he slowly reaches out and pats his head like he's a golden retriever or some shit.

"Shane, don't." Rick commands, and Daryl turns. His lips pull back to show his teeth when he sees that Shane's holding a gun – didn't Hershel say _no _weapons were to be carried on the farm? – and is pointing it at him. Though Daryl knows that Shane has a fairly decent aim, he can't help but stand up as tall as he can and nudge the kid backward, standing protectively in front of him. It's pure instinct and he growls at the former police officer.

"Shane." Carl calls and shakes his head. "He's not gonna hurt me. See?" The kid tangles his fingers into Daryl's fur and tugs softly. The wolf himself hardly moves an inch.

"Put the gun away." Rick says firmly and reaches for the weapon when the other man doesn't move, ripping it away from his grip and flicking on the safety though Daryl doesn't move an inch. He stares Shane down for a long moment before turning towards Carl.

He's never really noticed the kid all that much, though it's ingrained in him to protect the 'pups', and he takes a long look at the kid. He's a fair bit taller than Daryl thought he was but he's still small.

Apparently Carl notices that he's still small too, and in a moment of bravery he pushes down on the wolf until Daryl gets that the kids wants for him sit down. With a huff, he does so though the kid still isn't pleased, pushing down on his shoulders until he lies down.

Daryl is kind of stuck between 'who the hell does this kid think he is' and 'what the hell does this kid think he's doing' and sends an imploring look towards Rick, who merely shrugs. The whole camp is watching them now, standing in silence and making him feel far too awkward.

"Carl." Lori says warningly, but the boy ignores her and kneels down next to the wolf, leaning over to whisper in his ear. His giddy tone makes him sound young, but the question makes him sound so much younger.

"I'm not allowed to ride on the horses, can I ride on your back instead?"

It's a strange question, but admittedly, Daryl's been asked stranger ones – he grew up with Merle for fucks sake, he's been asked if bees knew that they were bees – and he rather likes the kid, so he huffs but doesn't get up.

The kid slings a leg over his body and ignores the "Carl what the hell are you doing?!"s and once Daryl is sure the kid is safe, he slowly lifts himself up and gives Rick a very long look and huffs again before starting to walk at a very slow pace. Carl has his fingers all wrapped up in his fur and is tugging infuriatingly and they both ignore Lori's annoyed yelling but Daryl does walk past Rick and lets the father whisper into his ear to keep his kid safe and to not strain himself too much.

It's hard work to walk around at a pace that wouldn't throw the kid off, and despite the fact that his injuries were almost healed, they were still rather tender and the kid seemed rather intent on – accidentally of course – disturbing them.

"Faster." Carl tells him excitedly, and Daryl moves into a loping walk and pretends to ignore that the camp is watching them, Lori almost looking amazed and then finally, the bitchy expression is wiped off her face when her son laughs loudly when Daryl has to slightly jump over a rocky patch. It's been quite a while since they've heard the kid laugh and every single one of them soak up the sound of it.

Even Carol drags herself outside to come see what all the commotion is about, and Daryl looks at her for half a moment to make sure that she was holding up and was still staying strong.

She was smiling.

That's all that mattered.

**Yes, I know I haven't updated since October but really, what can I say? I wouldn't normally make excuses but lately my time has been taken up with Nanowrimo ('but aerotes that was in november!'). Editing 70k worth of words is hard, kiddies.**

** Anyway, hopefully this (terrible) chapter that has been scrapped about fourty times is enough to make up for the wait, and if not, I did upload three new Bethyl fanfics. (Productivity for the win.) **

**-Aerotes,**


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